If It Kills Me
by CatrienStardust
Summary: Eclare ;  "Sometimes it just seemed impossible, their inside jokes, the way they carried on for hours, the way she knew him without words, it was just inconceivable that she couldn't hold something for him." ; 'All I really wanna do is love you.'


**I'M BACK. Writer's block sucks. xD**

**So, this was incredibly personal to write, because this is my Girlfriend's and I's song. I HIGHLY recommend you listen to it during the duration of this fic, it'll enhance it, I swear. I kind of feel out-of-touch with this, so let me know what you thought, okay?**

**I also wanted to write a softer Eli because of the side we've seen in recent episodes.**

**Song: **_If It Kills Me_ – Jason Mraz

_"Well all I really wanna do is love you,_

_A kind much closer then friend's use,_

_But I still can't say it after all we've been through._

_And all I really want from you is to feel me._

_As the feeling inside keeps building,_

_And I will find a way to you if it kills me."_

It was times like this, as they sat together studying on Clare's bed, that Eli cursed his inability to do _jack shit._

Studying shouldn't make him feel like this- constricted, wracked with longing and agony.

Studying shouldn't make his stomach clench, shouldn't make him bite his lip and form fists with his spindly hands. Editing English assignments were not supposed to make him this... _agitated_.

A little whimper beside him lead Eli to gaze at the direct source of his agitation. There, Clare Edwards sat, pencil resting delicately on her lower lip, which was tantalizingly clasped between her teeth as she stressed over a problem. Her stray hand was tangled into her curls, and Eli couldn't help but feel jealous. It should be _his_ hand wrapped in her curls, _his_ teeth catching her lip. Something within him surged and he had to look away, pain gripping at his chest.

To Adam, Alli, and half the students at Degrassi Community School, it was common knowledge that Eli adored Clare. They'd been inseparable; best friends, but, to Eli, the affection ran deeper. Clare, though perceptive, was far too naive and analytical to realize this, so while her classmates watched with bated breath as Eli pined after her, she turned and looked away.

Eli was wordy, but he wasn't able to speak the words he needed to.

It'd been like this for months now, and though occasionally Eli would look over and swear she was looking with the same expression- that desperate mix of affection and desperation- a second would pass and she'd be normal again, laughing and raising an eyebrow at his dazed expression.

Sometimes it just seemed _impossible, _their inside jokes, the way they carried on for hours, the way she knew him without words, it was just inconceivable that she couldn't hold something for him. Then he'd see her at a party or with a guy, and she'd kiss him and Eli would have to turn around, uninhibited, bitter rage blurring his sight.

_Why, you and I,_

_We go carrying on for hours on and,_

_We get along much better_

_Then you and your boyfriend._

This wasn't right, she should be _his_.

Should be, but wasn't. And really, the only person to blame was himself and his silence. Even if it was only because the thought of telling her and her freaking out was torture, that losing her would be unbearable, that he just couldn't handle knowing she didn't like him back, it was still his fault.

Irritably, he dug the pen he'd been writing with a little too hard into his paper, effectively ripping it. Turning at the sound of it, Clare raised a brow, peeking at him through her bangs. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Her clear, beautiful voice pulled Eli from the abyss of his thoughts, and with a confused expression, he responded, shrugging off the rage and desperation he felt inside.

"Nope, just utterly absorbed in this English assignment." His words were dry, laced with sarcasm, but it was all he could manage.

Clare quieted then, and, leading his head against the wall, Eli muttered silent thanks. Sometimes it hurt too much to hear her voice. He was a masochist in the purest form, his heart torn up but unable to say a word for fear of ruining things more.

"Are you okay, Eli?"

Eli focused intently on correcting a misspelling, not meeting her eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine." he responded.

Slamming her books on the pillow next to her, Clare shook her head vehemently, curls tossing either which way. "No." She said, prying the pen from his fingers, "You're not. Now stop evading and tell me what's going on!"

With a terse sigh, Eli shook his head, plucking his pen from her fingers and focusing on his work. "No, Clare, nothing's wrong."

Still too close to him, Clare looked at him skeptically. "Right..."

"Look, Edwards, the only thing wrong here is the impending and inevitable plummet of our English grade if you don't focus a little more."

Eli almost laughed saying that. It was so out-of-character, it reminded him of something Clare would say with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised in cute defiance. She was rubbing off on him far too much.

"Whoah, Eli. Those are big words coming from Mr. Skip Class. Now I know something's up. I'll give you one more chance- now, _what's wrong_?"

Eli let out a breath of air, looking at Clare with a lost vulnerability and shrugging. "Nothing."

Clare shook her head. "Wrong answer." Then, she was on him, far too close. For a second, his arms were around her and it was _heaven_, until-

Her fingers crawled up his sides, slipping beneath his worn Dead Hand tee to the skin underneath.

_Tickling_ him.

"C-CLARE." Eli managed out between laughs. Never in a million years would he admit it, but Eli Goldworthy was ticklish, and somehow, Clare knew this. "STOP IT!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong!" She teased, tickling him harder. For a small person, she was exceptionally inept at this.

"C-CLARE I'M SERIOUS."

"So am I." She said with a mischievous grin, looking up so her blue eyes met his.

Looking back, that moment was when everything changed. Eli, who'd been under Clare and helpless to the torture she'd been equipped with, locked green eyes with blue, wrapped his long fingers around her thin wrists, and used his body to flip her over, pinning her wrists above her head to the mattress above her head and securing her legs between his.

Suddenly their bodies were pressed together, and affections or not, he noted that a deep crimson crept to the pale skin of Clare's face. Keeping his body as far from hers without pressing _quite_ so obviously against hers, he smirked, observing the deep blue of her eyes.

"Clare." He drew out her name, unable to resist the natural urge to say it in a huskier tone, as if they were lovers. "Did I not say I wouldn't tell you?"

Did Clare just gulp? He must have been imagining it. "I don't take no for an answer though," she squeaked. "Just tell me, please? Aren't I your best friend?"

_How long can I go on like this?_

_Wishing to kiss you,_

_Before I rightly explode?_

Suddenly, it dawned on Eli that he was already in this far enough, that he'd endured this pain and suffering for just a bit too long, that he was going to combust if he didn't tell her. At this point, he was prepared for her to shoot him down, as long as the words were freed from his mind, released into the nothings of space.

"Clare." He said very deliberately, no longer husky. "That's _precisely the problem._"

"What do you mean?" She said, confused.

Removing a hand from the soft skin of her wrist, Eli used a finger to direct her chin so she was looking directly at him.

"I think you know exactly what I mean, Clare."

Her eyes widened then, mouth forming an 'o' as the realization crept into her eyes. Eli noticed something else too, then, how her chest hitched and eyes lightened, lips twitched in shock but also... excitement? "You mean to s-"

But Eli never found out what she thought he meant to say, because then he couldn't stand it anymore. In one swift, toe-curling moment, his resistance fell and his lips crashed into hers, sending shivers down his spine.

The second their lips met, he knew he would never want to kiss another again.

He released her wrists and moved his arms to her lower back, pulling her closer against his body and running his tongue smoothly against the impossibly soft flesh of her lips. Her lips were like rose petals, tasting like honey, and it was eerie how easy it was to kiss her. They were perfectly in-sync, and when he opened his mouth to suck gently on her lower lip, she returned the favor with ministrations on his upper lip, a perfect balance. Her mouth was cool and sweet, lips soft, his warm and rough, lips chapped. A yin-yang of passion.

The way they moved together was a symphony, and all Eli could think was, _Fuck, is this what our bodies were holding back every second they were together?_

Pulling away briefly, he whispered against her ear, "I knew you wanted me."

With a slight whimper, she murmured, "Was it that obvious? I was always yours."

Then his lips were on hers again, and the heat and the soft and the wet and the beauty and the pleasure was incredible. After months, days, seconds of torture, she was finally here.

She was his.

(And it hadn't even killed him.)

_"If I should be so bold,_

_I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand,_

_I'd tell you from the start how I long to be your man."_


End file.
